Liar Liar Pants on Fire
by Tainted Tuesday
Summary: Matthew and Gilbert had been together for years now, but both had their secrets, and untold, it threatens to rip them apart. PruCan Gilbert/Matthew - real names used.
1. Descent

I've had this sitting around for so long…

**Disclaimer:** I will never in my life own Hetalia. Or any of the countries /cry

**Claimer:** I own this pathetic excuse of a plot.

**UN-BETA'D – If you find any spelling or grammatical errors, feel free to tell me. Actually, please do.**

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><p><strong>Liar Liar Pants on Fire<strong>

**April 20****th**** – 8:23 PM**

Matthew sipped his drink from across the table. Gilbert eyed him suspiciously. They both knew he knew, but neither would say a word. The silence was making Gilbert more than anxious. Finally, Matthew cut the tension, but not in the way Gilbert had hoped for.

"I don't like beating around the bush, so I'll say it straight out. Where were you last night?"

Gilbert fidgeted slightly and wrapped his leg around his chair leg. "I told you, I was at the bar with a couple of buddies."

Matthew didn't take his time to respond, "With?"

Gilbert, however, took a good long pause. "Who was I with? Francis and Antonio."

Matthew took another sip. This was driving Gilbert mad. Just what was his lover getting at? He couldn't act out of line and demand why Matthew was interrogating him. Yes, he had cheated. But it was only once, and for God's sake, Matthew couldn't have possibly found out.

No, his plan was foolproof. He couldn't let Matthew steer this; he had to convince him that he was innocent. But how to do it without revealing himself?

Matthew put his glass down, catching Gilbert off guard. "I'll ask again, who were you with last night?"

Gilbert shrugged.

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "You don't know? Half a minute ago you told me you were out with Francis and Antonio."

Gilbert shrugged again. "Yeah, I was."

"Then why didn't you answer my calls?"

Gilbert knew exactly what to say, "Well, you'll find this strange, but my phone was turned off."

"So," Matthew started, "you were at a bar with Francis and Antonio, had your phone turned off, even though I clearly told you that morning to expect a call from me?"

Gilbert licked his lips and stared into Matthew's eyes. "That's right. Now, I know that's odd, but it's the truth. You have to believe me. Have I ever lied to you before?"

Matthew's eyes turned downcast.

"Gil, do you know what day it is?"

"No, why?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

_No_, Gilbert hadn't lied to him before. But he knew that Gilbert had cheated on him. With... with a human. Matthew clenched his fists tightly on his lap. Did he mean so little to him? Not only that, what was Gilbert thinking? Sleeping with a _human_!

He knew there was no chance of a nation getting a human pregnant, or vice versa, but Gilbert was no longer a nation… they didn't know what the ramifications were.

Gilbert felt something in the pit of his stomach, something he wasn't familiar with. It irked him. But then the teary eyed face of Matthew stared straight at him, with nothing but sadness and disappointment in them. He knew it was guilt then.

"Matt...?"

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve quickly. "Waiter, cheque please."

"What? We're leaving already? But I just got here ten minutes ago!" Gilbert whined.

Matthew just shook his head. "This isn't going anywhere. Don't come home tonight, Weillschmidt. Not until you admit it."

Gilbert flinched at the use of his last name. Matthew really knew. It was so blatantly obvious now. But...

Gilbert couldn't come to apologize, even if he wanted to. He had never apologized in his life! Did Matthew really expect him to do it now? He didn't even feel a tinge of guilt when he accidently burned down half of Roderich's house.

"Wait, where am I supposed to go?"

Matthew didn't answer. He just speed walked out of there.

Gilbert only realized now that Matthew had left him with the bill.

The waiter looked expectantly at him.

"Damn it..." Did paying for the bill suffice as an apology? Probably not.

He took a glance at the total and dug out some random Canadian bills and then high tailed it out of there. Chances were it wasn't enough, but he didn't care at this point. He needed to catch the Canadian before he got too far.

Matthew's grief had been replaced with anger after he left the restaurant.

_Who does Gilbert think he is?_

He wasn't even a nation anymore, and he thought he could just use him then toss him aside whenever he wanted to?

Matthew smirked cynically.

If Gilbert were to ever try something like this again, he would see to it that Gilbert be officially dissolved. He wasn't afraid of Germany. Germany could do nothing to stop it if Matthew set his mind to it.

"Matt, wait!" The use of his nickname stopped him for two seconds before he picked up his pace and broke into a run. It was odd though. He could run so much faster, but didn't. Within a minute, Gilbert caught up to him and pinned him by the shoulders in the side of an alley. "I-I just..."

"Just what Gilbert? JUST WHAT?" Matthew screamed, his fists landing limply against Gilbert's chest.

"I don't know, okay?" Gilbert screamed back, confused by his own actions.

Matthew struggled uselessly against him. He could have pushed Gilbert off of him and ran away. But for some reason, his strength had deserted him. He just couldn't find it in himself to do anything other than cry. How pathetic.

"Why don't you just leave me alone...?"

"I—I can't."

"Yes you can! Just leave and never come back to Canada!"

"I can't do that. I—"

"That's enough you lying bastard!"

"I'm sorry, okay!"

Matthew stopped his trashing. "Y-you're what?"

Gilbert wanted to die at this moment. He didn't know saying those two words could kill a man from the inside so much. "I said I'm sorry."

Matthew's heart sank. How come he didn't believe him? _It's all right now. You were overreacting... every relationship has its bumps here and there._

Instead of saying "It's okay", Matthew only muttered through hiccups, "She was a-a human... a human..."

Gilbert swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew the taboo of getting that involved with a human. If someone were to ever discover their secret... who they really were. Well, they'd be damned.

"She was already drunk, and probably high! She couldn't remember a thing, I swear!"

Matthew's anger returned at full force. "So you admit it! So you admit to cheating on me!"

"Yes Matt, I admit it! I'm a cheater! I cheated! I'm a liar, a bastard and whatever else you want to call me!" Gilbert couldn't believe the words flying out of his mouth. Did he even mean what he said? "I swear to god I'll never cheat again!"

Reduced to shaking sobs only seconds ago, Matthew found the strength in him to violently shove Gilbert off of him and into the opposite wall. He didn't stay. Matthew was out of there in three seconds flat, but stayed just long enough to hear a _thump_ and a sickening _crack_.

He didn't care at that point though.

He just wanted out.

There were no footsteps following him. There was no shouting behind him. There was no more Gilbert.

No more of Gilbert and his lies.

No more of Gilbert and his selfishness.

No more of Gilbert and his stupid bird.

No more of Gilbert and his incessant but amusing antics.

No more of Gilbert and his loud but charming brashness.

No more of Gilbert and his attractive smirk.

No more… of Gilbert's love.

**10:41 PM**

Matthew sat alone in front of his television. His bear, Kumajirou, was sound asleep beside him. There was a cup of hot chocolate on the coffee table and empty plates, smeared with maple syrup.

The news was on.

"…_police suspect this to be the work of…"_

His eyes were red and bloodshot. He locked all the doors and windows after coming home. In a rage, Matthew had also deleted and blocked Gilbert from every form of communication.

But it was all a waste of time.

"_The victim has been identified as Gilbert Weillschmidt."_

"It's okay… he deserved it."

"_Witnesses say that a man was seen running out of the same alley as Mr. Weillschmidt. The suspect is described to be between the height of 5'5" and 6'0…"_

"I'm the real victim…"

"…_has blonde hair and was seen wearing a black suit…"_

Matthew ground his teeth together and muttered, "They're wrong… it's not my fault."

"…_and was wearing glasses. This is a sketch of him."_

"That looks nothing like me." Matthew smirked.

"_If you see someone matching these descriptions, please notify your local law enforceme—"_

He switched the television off. The sudden change woke Kumajirou.

"Who?" his beloved bear yawned.

Matthew turned an eye towards his bear. "You still don't remember me?"

Kumajirou tilted his head to his left. "Who are you?"

Matthew's mouth twitched and he frowned. But remembering himself, he smiled at Kumajirou. "It's me, Matthew. I'm your owner and feed you, remember?"

His bear seemed to recognize his name. "Ah, I do remember. Matthew was the boyfriend of some guy named Gilbert. That's you?"

Matthew stared at Kumajirou in shock.

The skin under his eyes stood out and wrinkles appeared when his face contorted into such an ugly expression. His fingernails dug into his palm as he clenched his fists to steady himself. Kumajirou looked at him in confusion, until his gaze lowered to Matthew's clenched fists.

Blood.

There was blood spilling out.

But Matthew didn't feel the pain. Next to what happened two hours ago, he couldn't feel something as insignificant as this.

"Matthew…?"

"Y-yes?" Matthew croaked out.

"You should get some rest," Kumajirou said. Matthew's hands slackened immediately. His bear could always speak, but he had never said anything mildly intelligent, or useful. It was always, "I'm hungry", "Who are you?", or "England, I found America".

"Y-you're r-r-right…" Matthew pulled himself up and staggered towards the stairs leading to their bedroom. Kumajirou just yawned again and laid his head back down on a couch cushion. He didn't want to be near Matthew. Not when he was like this.

**April 21****st**** – 7:45 AM**

The sun didn't shine through the blinds like it did yesterday. The sky was grey, and clouds clustered together. It was going to rain.

Matthew opened his eyes and blinked away the crust that formed from his tears. He picked his glasses up from the night stand and glanced at the window.

_The blinds are closed… that's right, I did that last night._

He got up and pulled up the blinds to check on the weather.

"Fantastic. I need to go to the hospital too…" he muttered as he stared at his hands. He would bandage his hands himself, but his nails had done extensive damage. First-aid kits wouldn't be enough.

So the morning went by quietly.

Matthew got dressed, had breakfast, then brushed his teeth and headed out before the storm set in. He also made sure to put on contacts before he left. The police were on search of an eyeglasses character after all.

He pulled his jacket closer together as a cold breeze passed by, sending chills down his spine. In the back of his mind, Matthew felt it as a forewarning.

_It's all in my mind._

Matthew arrived at the hospital in record time and stepped up to the receptionist, showed her his health card and explained the situation. She looked at his hands in shock and horror.

"It's a long, long story and it's very boring," he laughed sheepishly.

_Hardly…_

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait in line."

Matthew looked over his shoulder and surveyed the line. It was too early in the morning for there to be many people. The maximum wait time looked like it would be around fifteen minutes.

"That's fine," he said and took the health card from the counter. "Thank you."

He didn't bring any entertainment even though there was an iPod sitting in his bedroom. It wasn't so bad though. Matthew had legendary patience. Patience of steel if you will.

So the minutes ticked by with someone coughing occasionally. Finally, he was called.

Matthew got up quickly and followed the doctor down a hall before turning left and found himself standing in a small office with all the doctor-like equipment.

The questions were boring until the doctor asked: "Why were you digging your nails into palms for? I mean, for you to inflict injuries that severe it could only be done intentionally."

"Trust me, doctor," Matthew said. "It wasn't intentional."

His doctor just nodded his head and seemed resigned. It really wasn't his place to ask why he did it. Just how it happened and if he could fix him up.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Now, please come here and we'll get started."

Had Matthew not severed as a soldier before, he would have described the pain to be unbearable. Granted, the doctor did give him anaesthesia, but clearly that kind only worked on normal humans.

So Matthew bit his lip, but made sure it wasn't enough to bleed. When the doctor was done, Matthew couldn't think of a more relieved moment in his life.

His doctor instructed him on what he could and couldn't do, how to avoid re-opening the wounds, and informed him that it may leave scars.

_It's okay… I'm already scarred._

Just as Matthew walked back into the lobby, his phone rang. It was so sudden and he nearly jumped out of his skin. No one ever called him, save for… Gilbert. Did this mean he was alright?

_But I had blocked his number. Unless he's calling from a payphone._

Matthew flipped his phone open and the name "Alfred F. Jones" shone in bright LED lights. "Strange… what could he be calling me for?"

"MATTIE!"

Matthew held the phone away from his ear and speed walked out of the hospital. Several heads had turned his way and he didn't need the unwanted attention.

"Yes, Alfred?" Matthew nearly hissed.

"Is it true?"

Matthew's eyebrows crinkled. True what? "What are you going on about now?"

"I saw it on the news! About that creepy albino bastard!"

Matthew's heart almost stopped. How could Alfred know about it? Their outing was private and the news local. This could only mean… "Alfred, where are you?"

"Oh come on, let's not change the topic. Is it true or not that it was you?"

"Alfred F. Jones," Matthew really hissed this time, "where in the bloody hell are you?"

"Geez, chill out, Mattie, you sound like Artie. If it means so much to you, I'm in Montreal."

Matthew wanted to ask what he was doing there, but there were more important matters at hand. He reached his car, jammed the key in, got in, and then slammed the door shut.

"It's their poutine. Sooo good… but not as good as McDonalds of course—hey, what are you—"

There was audible swearing on the other end and Matthew faintly heard a struggle.

"Alfred?"

"Matthew? Are you there?"

Matthew locked his door. "Yeah. Arthur?"

There was static on the other side, and then a loud "Give it back, Artie!" followed by a "Get away from me you git, let me speak to him!"

"Sorry about that."

"It's fine," he replied.

"Alfred and I wanted to know what's going on with you and Prussia."

"Well—"

"Look, I'm sorry. Normally I wouldn't be interfering with your life and all, but if you know anything about what happened to him, could you please tell us? Even though we all say we hate him, we don't, and he's your… l-lover so we don't wish him ill."

Matthew gripped his phone hard. The hinges creaked and he loosened his grip. "I don't know… I'm sorry Arthur, but I have to go now. If I find anything I'll let you know."

There was a pregnant pause on the other end.

"Matthew. I… I saw the description of the suspect. What I mean to say is, just apologize, okay?"

_Craaack!_

The screen fell out of phone in shattered pieces. Fresh blood dotted the bandages wrapped around Matthew's palms, and new cuts smiled at Matthew in small crescents.

What did he know? That's right, nothing.

"I hate him…! I hate him so much…" Matthew rested his forehead against the steering wheel as he tried to will away the tears. Why was he crying again? Was he this weak of a nation?

**April 25****th**** – 11:30 AM**

Matthew's cuts had healed.

As a nation and he wasn't hurt and definitely couldn't die like a human, but he could certainly feel like one.

A couple of people had called him regarding the incident. It seems as if Alfred couldn't keep his big mouth shut. It had gotten to the point of having several messages on his answering machine. To Matthew, it wasn't flattering like people normally thought, but a hassle. He knew they were only doing it because his cellphone had died a most unfortunate death.

So Matthew set out today to buy a new one.

He would have liked to take Kumajirou with him, but from experience he knew that normal pets were allowed, but small polar bears were not. Mall security had been called more than once because of it.

It was way too troublesome explaining and manipulating his way out of that interrogation.

So he shut the door quietly and locked it so Kumajirou wouldn't wander outside and get lost.

Matthew drove to the biggest mall in Ontario, Square One, and browsed for hours to keep himself occupied. In the darker recesses of his mind, a desire to destroy everything that Gilbert touched was manifesting at an alarming rate. But Matthew didn't want to let it out. Not again. He let it out once and look where it landed Gilbert. In the ER. Yeah, great. As if killing him would solve anything.

_If anything I'll just be the cause of WWIII when Germany tries to kill me for killing his brother..._

So he spent the rest of the day busying himself with getting to know his new touchscreen phone. His last wasn't fancy at all, and normally he wouldn't want a fancy one loaded with applications. But this incident left him desperate to find anything to distract himself, so he blew a huge wad of money on an expensive phone with a three year plan.

It was now 6:44 PM, and Matthew hadn't made a move to drive back home yet. It would take hours to drive back, but he didn't care... he just sat there tapping at the screen and filling out contacts, half wondering what the point was and half wondering how Gilbert was doing.

Then—"Why should I care..."

_He's made it clear he doesn't care. So why... why do I still care?_

No tears came this time, only unadulterated anger.

_Just because we're nations it's okay? Because we'll live for an eternity and some it means it's okay to just lie and cheat and..._ he stopped short.

No... he deserved it.

But then again, no one really did, right? Gilbert could hold his liquor, but everyone had a breaking point and they were all accidents.

The aching burn on his upper bicep screamed no.

Matthew screamed back and told it to shut its face.

But the scar on his stomach scowled and called him a coward.

"Just be quiet... it'll all be over soon anyway..."

**April 27 – 8:19 AM**

A rope in hand and a razor blade between his fingers, Matthew debated who to use it on. One or the other. Both or neither. Decisions, decisions…

"No," a small voice said to his left on the couch. Matthew lifted his head and looked at his pet polar bear.

"No what?"

Kumajirou crawled to him and took hold of the rope with his jaws and threw it onto the floor. He then nudged at the razor blade and Matthew set it down on the coffee table. Only then did Kumajirou take his place on Matthew's lap.

"No more fighting. Apologize."

Something in Matthew snapped—no, broke.

_I'm not apologizing to that asshole._

"No, Kumakichi…" he replied, voice low. "I won't apologize until he does."

The screaming back there did _not_ constitute as an apology. Gilbert clearly didn't mean it and besides… it wasn't the only thing he had to apologize for.

"Hospital."

Matthew smirked. "I got him good."

To his surprise, the bear growled savagely and turned to him with furrowed beady, black eyes. "No. Apologize. Both of you."

This time Matthew just stared at him.

Both of them?

"So… you don't think this is entirely my fault?"

"Both and neither," his bear responded.

Matthew understood immediately what Kumajirou meant: Pointing fingers and saying the other was the one who started it is childish and both of them should acknowledge that, apologize, and get on with their life.

But his bear only knew minute details of their relationship and Matthew couldn't let go of what Gilbert did to him, drunk or not.

"It hurts… Kuma…" he couldn't even remember the last part of his bear's name…

"I'll bet he's hurting too."

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><p>Like it? Hate it?<p>

Should I continue this? I have two endings in mind, and if you guys want, I'll write it. For now, tell me your thoughts? C:

Thank you for reading!


	2. Niedrige

Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews, alerts and faves! :D I come bearing news.

Goods news and bad news. The good news is I've decided to turn this into a multi-chapter short story. The bad news is while I have everything figured out I won't have time to write it. OH IMPENDING EXAMS, WHY MUST THERE BE SIX OF YOU? At least I don't have eight...

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia, or the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS) or the Prime Minister Stephen Harper.

**Claimer:** This fic is mine pft.

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><p><strong>April 28th – 12:03 AM<strong>

"Hey Birdie..."

Matthew flinched at the sound of his nickname. "I thought you had head trauma."

Gilbert grinned and leaned on his elbows, eyes burning into Matthew. "Yeah, but the awesome me can't be kept down by such a silly injury."

Matthew didn't say anything. He just pulled himself over the ledge of the window and landed quietly beside Gilbert's bed. There was a moment of silence—Matthew refused to meet Gilbert's eyes, and Gilbert was shifting over in his bed, making room for Matthew to sit down.

"You didn't push me as hard as you could have."

Resigned, Matthew took the spot next to Gilbert, his back facing him. "How did you get hurt anyway?"

"First I crashed into the wall after I lost my footing, and then I hit the back of my head on the edge of a dumpster."

"That still shouldn't do anymore than give you a headache..." he muttered.

"Heh." The sound of Gilbert's sad but condescending voice startled Matthew, but he didn't show it. "I know you're smart enough to figure it out."

"So this is the effect of being a dissolved nation."

"Yeah," Gilbert yawned into his palm. "Oh well, I'll still recover, even if it's not as fast as before."

"So... what now?"

"What happened to your hands?"

Matthew glanced at his hands, eyes drooped, face nonchalant. "I broke my phone. It was an accident."

"Really?"

It startled Matthew how accusing Gilbert's voice sounded. He was suspicious. Of course. Who wouldn't be?

Careful Matthew.

Mindful Matthew.

Docile Matthew.

Gentle Matthew.

That was who he was supposed to be, and for the longest time, he was happy being those things. But now, something inside of Matthew broke. Everything he had bottled up in chains imploded from within, and to his despair, his thoughts were filled with schemes.

Last night, he had been plotting Gilbert's death.

"Yes."

"Hey Matt." An arm snaked its way around his waist.

"What?"

"I really am sorry you know."

Matthew felt the bed shift and Gilbert's chin rest on his left shoulder, his cold breath sending chills down his spine. When he didn't make any objections, Gilbert wrapped his other arm around his torso, effectively locking him against his chest.

"I know, Gil," Matthew barely managed to choke out. It was strange. Seconds ago he could have skinned an infant, but now he was filled with an odd melancholy. It was the same feeling as before after he had thought about starting WW III after killing Gilbert. "I know."

"I was an idiot," Gilbert murmured his neck.

"Yeah," Matthew agreed absentmindedly. That same feeling grew until it overtook his breathing, and he began taking deeper and shorter breaths. It was so familiar, and he was sure he felt it before. But he couldn't put a name on it. _What is this? I know I know it..._

"Hey," Gilbert asked, concerned at Matthew's abnormal breathing. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing." Matthew broke out of Gilbert's hold and stumbled to the floor, barely holding himself up with his elbows.

"Woah! Birdie, what's wrong?" Gilbert began mentally panicking. He was stuck to the bed with IV in his left hand and Matthew looked like he was about to collapse on the floor. _Screw this._ His mind made up, Gilbert ripped the IV out and launched himself from the bed and beside Matthew. His first instinct urged him to support Matthew by helping him sit up.

"I-I'm okay, Gil..."

"Like hell you are!"

"Keep your voice d-down," Matthew scolded. "I-it won't do either of us g-good if someone saw me in here."

"Right. Sorry." For a moment, Matthew seemed to have regained his strength before he slumped limply against Gilbert's hold. Gilbert would have thought he died if it weren't for the fact that his eyes were still open and blinking.

"It's going to be okay, Matt, I swear." Matthew was effortlessly lifted from the ground and plopped down into the white hospital bed. "We're going to be okay."

**4:30 AM**

Matthew's eyes blinked open. He was oddly warm, but that warmth wasn't unfamiliar. When his eyes didn't focus, he realized that he had had a fit awhile ago and was still in the hospital—judging by all the white surrounding him.

Glasses.

Where were his glasses? When he scaled the wall of the hospital he had been wearing glasses, not contacts.

He closed his left eye and immediately saw an outline of his glasses beside the pillow. He quietly slipped out of Gilbert's arms and strode over to the window he came through.

When he lost consciousness, he had dreamt about a past event in his life that reminded him of what that particular chest constricting feeling was. _I can't stay here. I have to get to Parliament. Now._

"Goodbye Gilbert," he whispered. "I hope we'll meet again."

The stirring figure was his cue to leave, and he slid the window closed gently before quickly climbing to the back of the building on the ledge and making his way down. He didn't need to risk an earlier jogger seeing him.

The steps needed to carry out his plan needed to be completed in less than twenty-four hours. Usually he'd have more time—at least a week—but it seemed that his relapse was much more spontaneous.

Step One: Inform Kumajirou of the situation and get him a month's supply of food. It may stink up his house but it had to be done.

Matthew ran a few blocks to a public parking lot where his car awaited him. He got in, turned on the ignition and sped his way out of there forgoing all traffic laws. It was too early for police to be around these areas anyhow.

_Not the smartest decision, but certainly the fastest._

He reached his house by five o'clock and flung the front door open. _I have got to remember to lock my door..._

"Kumagi!" Matthew called. "Where are you?"

A black nose followed by a fluffy white head poked out from the living room entrance. "Who?"

"Matthew, the person that feeds you. No time to talk, Kumachi, it's happening again." Matthew picked up his polar bear, or at least tried to before he realized how much bigger Kumajirou was. Right, when this happened Kumajirou would always grow two or three times. "Follow me."

Matthew with Kumajirou at his heel descended into the basement where Matthew usually kept his stock of food in case of emergencies.

"No good," he muttered to himself. "There's only enough to last you two weeks."

"What?"

"Remember what happened thirty years ago in April?" Matthew crouched in front of Kumajirou. "And twenty years before that?"

"Yes. You left me for three weeks."

Well, when his bear put it like that... "But I always came back. And it's happening again now, so I'm asking you, please be patient and don't leave this house."

Kumajirou's eyes drooped, but he understood. "Yes."

"Thank you." He gave Kumajirou a long hug and buried his face into the soft fur. It was so warm... "I'll be back soon, I promise."

The sentimental moment over, Matthew and Kumajirou headed back up stairs. There was no time to restock Kumajirou's food supply, so he would trust someone from the government that knew of his situation with the job.

"Don't let anyone in unless they know the password."

Matthew was at the front door in no time, checking his pockets to make sure everything was there.

"Gilbert?"

"Not him. If he comes around tell him that I'm too busy and my boss asked to see me for an emergency meeting."

Matthew didn't see the way Kumajirou's eyes lowered to the floor. "How long?"

"To be on the safe side tell him I won't be in for the next month or so."

"Too long," it came out barely whispered, but Matthew still picked it up. He finished his checklist and smiled at Kumajirou.

"For a meeting? Yeah, I know. Ummm..." He wrecked his brain for ideas, but could come up with nothing. "Tell him anything you can think of. Tell him I'm not feeling well if he comes back or whatever—just that I need to stay at Parliament."

"What if—"

"No time, Kuma. I have to go. Make sure no one follows me!"

The door slammed shut and the lock clicked.

Kumajirou stared at the door for a few minutes. He knew that person would come back sooner or later to feed him. But he couldn't stand this perpetual feeling of loneliness. And it didn't help that he prohibited him from having any human contact until he returned.

Not even that Gilbert guy.

"Hungry."

**9:44 AM**

It took him forever to get to his boss's office, and even more time since security was called. He didn't expect to see a newcomer once he burst through the doors, and when he yelled at her to get out of the way and it was an emergency, she screamed and called security.

It didn't take long for the security guards to recognize him, but it still hindered him. By the time he got to Harper's office, he fell to the floor in a spasm.

There were shocked gasps and the paramedics were almost called before Harper stopped them. He had never seen anything like it before; Matthew was convulsing with seizure like movements, his head smashing against the floor—but he was talking, giving them instructions on what to do whilst yelling at people to get out.

Most people cleared out on Harper's command and Matthew was left alone with Harper and a few secret service members. They knew who he was and about his condition.

Alan Hayes was forty-three and had assisted Matthew before. He was given the details of Matthew's condition a few years ago when it was suspected to going to repeat. But of course, no one had seen it until now. Well, all expect one retired secret service member that was called back. He arrived in record time.

Sebastian Veal was his name, and he was seventy years old. When he saw what was happening to the blonde he immediately knew what to do.

Granted, they may have been able to handle the situation on their own, but having someone with experience was much more comforting. Especially since no one was sure how to carry them out.

Matthew was taken into the basement of the building. Only a few select people in the country knew of the tunnels connecting Parliament building to Langevin Block. It was essentially a network of underground communication systems that spanned from Ottawa to Toronto. They were still under construction as of today, but because the need for one was unlikely to ever rise again, progress was slow.

The only reason it was still in progress was because of Canada's condition. A nation spirit's well-being may be connected with their respected countries, but they were still individuals with their own life. And Matthew's was fading.

It took a great deal of effort to restrain Matthew and two CSIS members were kicked and punched before they grabbed a hold of his arms and legs, lifting him through the tunnels. It seemed that it was true that Matthew's condition was chronic, because awaiting them a few dozen metres down the first tunnel was a first-aid kit and a note.

A note with further instructions that were probably written by Matthew himself.

Sebastian quickly swiped the note and barked an order to Alan to take the first-aid kit. He quickly scanned the paper and said, "Drop the boy."

"What?"

"Hurry up and drop him!"

"But—"

"To the floor, now!"

They did as told and set Matthew on the dirt ground. It wasn't long before he began foaming at the mouth. The only face that didn't look shell shocked was Sebastian. It didn't take a fool to guess that they probably had a million questions rushing through their mind right now, and no one there was a fool.

"This note," Sebastian began, "outlines everything we need to do from here on. Memorize it and follow it to the dot." He then handed it to Alan.

The CSIS members all seemed have accepted their job with a resigned face. Their first time meeting their country's spirit and they had to see him dying.

What was happening to their country?

"Sir!"

Sebastian nodded curtly. He knew Matthew had started thrashing again. This time much more violently than before. He frequently tried to get up but only succeeded in smashing his forehead into the ground. No one moved a muscle.

"What do we do now, sir?"

Sebastian motioned for the CSIS members to clear from Matthew and make room for the thrashing boy. "As cruel as it seems, our job does not start here. We must wait for him to stop on his own."

Shocked faces stared at him in question: Why?

He sighed. "I'm sorry to say that I don't know how to cure this. The last time this happened I was like you as well."

"What about a doctor? We can get one here in—"

"I'm sorry Mr. Harper," Sebastian interrupted. "But Mr. Williams' condition is highly confidential, top secret if I do say so myself, and no one else must know about this."

"Not even..."

"I'm sorry, but doctors are not an exception," Sebastian backed up a few steps and slumped against the wall. His age was taking a toll on him and never did he think he would have to witness his nation die—again. "I suggest you all take a seat. Mr. Harper, you may go back if you would like. We are capable of handling everything from here."

Harper looked like he wanted to leave, but at the same time he was torn. Damn it, this was _his_ country and he was the boss, he was supposed to be preventing things like this from happening.

He felt responsible.

He shook his head, "I'm staying. It's the least I can do. And besides, he did come running to me so that must mean my being here is somehow significant, right?"

Sebastian nodded idly. "I suppose so. By the way, cellphone signals do get through here, so it would probably be best if you send an email or text message to someone and let them know you haven't been kidnapped."

Harper let out a strained and joyless laugh. "That would be smart."

The rest of the CSIS members all followed Sebastian's example and took a seat, far, far away from Matthew.

Two hours passed.

Matthew hadn't stopped screaming.

While Sebastian was only reminded how slow this process was, he showed no other signs of disturbance. The other secret service members also could handle it relatively well.

But the Prime Minister... he didn't look too good.

Whether it was from a mixture of guilt, horror or disgust, they didn't know.

Many times someone spoke up and tried to get him to leave, reassuring that Matthew was in good hands, but Harper refused to budge. This display of perseverance was impressive, and they had to give him props for that.

But the worst had yet to come.

On that note was a list of all the stages Matthew would have to go through. He looked like he was in his third.

The first two were just the tip of the iceburg. The third stage, as emphasized by the capitals, was to last six hours.

By the time this ordeal was over, at least three days will have passed. Food and water would be supplied by other CSIS members from Toronto, and the team here would meet them one kilometre away to collect the supplies.

And although there were no showers, bathrooms were installed and there was one every five kilometres. The upkeep of them... was another story.

**8:45 AM**

"Mr. Weillschmidt, how are you feeling?"

Gilbert had half the nerve to glare at the nurse. "Fine."

She took the hint and didn't bother asking him more courtesy questions. Instead she just left his medication and a glass of water on a table left of his bed and left the room. "You're very lucky." He heard her whisper as she closed the door.

Lucky, sure.

_Birdie, why did you leave again?_

* * *

><p>There are tunnels because I really really really want there to be a labyrinth underneath Parliament hill. So bad ;A; Thank you for reading! Reviews are loved -hinthintnudgenudge-<p>

Oh and! Poll on my profile on what I should write after this!_  
><em>


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